Hunting for A-holes

[lemon boy]

Evening - Sportstalker:

Part of me knows that by purchasing the helmet cover my dollars are flowing to a business that is inherently soulless and vile but the sight of the leopard printed stegosaurus helmet cover has put a beautiful, karma improving thought into my head. A force for improving manners. Taking from the mighty to confer enjoyment to the downtrodden.

Night - The tuning bench:

My skis, lovingly cared for. Edges, very very sharp. Tomorrow's temps and some concoction of waxes have been combined and voodooized for intended maximum glide. All the core shots and dings have been lovingly filled in. My babies are ready. After all, hunting for assholes requires the finest of tunes. No camo for them, nobody notices and if someone does I'm willing to let a few go free, mayhap they'll learn from a near brush. And those who get the sentence, they'll know from whence it came.

I have pretty boots, they're red and shiny. People can identify them easily and usually only expert skiers have them. Hunting for assholes though requires some camouflage, a coat of light primer gray with just a diagonal slash of red exposed on the sides is the perfect tone, it screams "solly rear entry" to assholes.

I bought a small mirror you're supposed to put on a bike, it fits perfect on my pole and will give me the edge I need. The poles, are Scott Golds from ca 1978. Most durable ever made and the wooden dowels inserted their length make them near indestructible.

Morning - The truck AM radio:

Today will be good. 16" of new, nothin for a week. Assholes will be out. Expectations are high.

Morning - The parking lot:

cccrraasspppppfffttttttttttttttttttttttttttttttttt tttttttttt

The crisp cold clean taste of coors light cleanses the coffee from my mouth. I don't need it for camouflage, I just like it.

I dress in layers. Longies, a pair of armored shorts my nice ski pants. 42w30l wranglers over the top; see how they bunch on top of my boots. The armored jacket comes next. I like wearing it anyway but today I think it will see some extra use. Gives some bulk and has hard pads. Over all I wear a camo jacket. It really is a nice coat and if it weren't camo anyone would wear it skiing. But it is camo, real camo, advantage wetlands to be exact but today it will make me stand out like a lonely blaze orange and blue beacon in a black and silver oakland stadium.

Finally, steogo. I almost wonder if this isn't just a little too much. Probably but I don't care.

The lift:

Glad I took a shit b/c otherwise the wad of beechnut in my mouth would have me making a stop. But I did and it isn't. Oh and ornery, I do feel ornery.

High - T:

It is hard to not simply blast across the traverse, my tune is fast. But my speed is moderated by well timed wedges and skids performed with feigned imbalance and imperfection.

Not 30 seconds into things and I know the first asshole of the day is about to make his move. I see him coming in the mirror and I know I'm in "his" line. What is it, that even through a shitty mirror I can spot them? Sure enough, at almost twice the rate of my speed this one thinks that he's found an easy mark. At the last instant, I brace for impact. Such a simple thing the raised arm intending to bat this fly from the traverse, teach that gape a lesson. That little damning arm. Braced for impact and ready for the blow instead of flying from the traverse I keep my feet and stab a gold pole between his legs and lever as I screech to an emergency full stop, double eject to front 1.5 layout. Both pretty skis get kicked off the traverse, maybe he'll find em.

"Son, I am judge, I am jury, I am the executor of your sentence. YOU need to learn to be a little bit more polite on these traverses" That's when it happens, he sees the skis, the primer chipping off the boots and knows that everything is not what it seems. With that, I arc a beautiful amber beechnut stream all down his pretty coat and skate away. I love hunting for assholes and if I do say so myself I am very, very good at it.

More hunts coming soon...

[Pinner]

That was YOU???

[Keoni]

Pics?
I want pics.

[lemon boy]

That was YOU???

Yep.

All legal matters should be addressed to my legal representatives at:

Dewey, Cheetem & Howe, PC.

[splat]

Roller Derby on snow.
Pit that Hogan's Heros gameshow guy against Governor Arny, add some space tech weapons, a gimp or two, and I see a blockbuster script unfolding.

[H-man]

[Karl Stall]

[Guiness pitch dudes] Brilliant!! [GPD]

[gimpy]

truely most excellent!!!!

[Particle]

LMFAO! Classic LB, Classic. And I second the pics request. High T??? Are you in Ewwtarr?

[truth]

2 drops...and a stain.

[house guest]

Nice Lemon Boy. Like the High-T is a real "Pain Train" anyway. What a joke!

[lemon boy]

No pics yet but I'll try to get some sometime. I need to bring the cammy on the next hunt so ya'll can see my trophies.

In all reality, I also bought a camo elmer fudd hat that will work good too.

Tell the little lady that REK is looking much more promising than originally expected otay?

[shera]

Hehe, noice read. Kinda hoping it's just fiction...

[Obstruction]

Are you available to do personal appearances? We could have used you at the office X-mas party!

BTW -- Any luck lining up spancers?